


X-Tober 2020 - Star Wars

by HeartOfStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Fluff and Angst, Gen, all three!, and whump, but also happy!, cause I couldn't decide, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: All the Star Wars prompts I did for a mix of Whumptober, Flufftober, and Angstober in 2020!
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 34
Kudos: 211





	1. Day 1: Angstober - "I Did This For You"

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: major character death in this one.

With a thump, Organa’s body hit the floor. 

Luke’s screaming fell silent. The boy  _ would  _ understand; Vader would make him. Slowly, he turned around. 

Luke was standing behind him, tears streaming down his face; he looked frozen, so frozen compared to the way he had been screaming, attacking Vader, using the Force as much as he could. He looked like a statue. 

But as soon as Vader approached him, he stumbled backward. 

“Get away from me!” he cried, his voice hoarse; he was shaking all over. “Don’t  _ touch me!”  _

“Luke, I--” Vader moved toward him again, then stopped. Luke was...he was too afraid, after what had just happened, and he didn’t know what to do. “She was a spy, sent on behalf of the Rebellion. She--”

“Y-you don’t understand.” Luke shook his head, continuing to edge further away. “Do you?” 

“I understand  _ perfectly,”  _ Vader growled. “It is you who does not understand. She would have meant you harm; she did mean you harm. I did this to  _ protect you!”  _

Luke stared at him, his face white. Vader didn’t know whether Luke was about to scream at him, or physically attack him, or burst into tears, or all three; he would have expected all three. But for some reason, something about what he had said had... _ horrified  _ Luke.

Vader waited for Luke to explode. But he didn’t. 

Instead, the tears stopped coming, and the horrified expression in Luke’s eyes turned to one of unbearable sadness. And that--that was worse. 

There was a tiny crack on the edge of Vader’s world; just tiny. 

“Father,” he said, his voice cracking; he looked so hopeless, and Vader just wanted to hug him. He shook his head. “Father, she was my sister.” 

And Vader’s universe shattered and broke. 


	2. Day 3: Flufftober - "But You Said"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin surprises Ahsoka during the early days of his teaching.

Once again, the Council had said no. 

“I can’t believe it,” Ahsoka muttered, kicking the floor idly. “They totally need to send us to Malastare! What are they thinking?”

“I don’t know, Snips,” Anakin said; he wasn’t even  _ looking  _ at her, and he was also walking too fast. That was frustrating, too. Couldn’t he get that her legs were a lot shorter than his? “But we have to abide by the Council’s decision.”

“But  _ why?”  _ Ahsoka demanded. Maybe she was only fifteen, but she was also a  _ much  _ better warrior than Barriss Offee. “I mean, the Council’s seen me. They’ve seen you. And Barriss and Luminara are too...they’re such pushovers! Malastare is going to be  _ dangerous,  _ why in the galaxy wouldn’t they send us?” 

“I  _ don’t know,  _ Snips.” Oh, great. He was getting impatient with her again. 

“Oh, come on!” she protested. “You said we don’t always have to do what the Council tells us, that they’re not always wise! Don’t tell me you  _ agree _ with them!” 

This time, Anakin actually  _ stopped,  _ so suddenly that she almost bumped into him. Then he turned around, arms crossed, and glared down at her. 

Uh-oh. 

“Maybe,” he said sharply, “I do agree with them! Not that we shouldn’t go to Malastare. But maybe this is important for you to understand.  _ Maybe  _ this is an opportunity for a lesson!”

He stopped, as if to let his words sink in. Ahsoka braced herself. She didn’t want another  _ lesson.  _

Anakin continued to glare at her--for one, two, three seconds. 

And then, a sly grin stretched across his face. 

“A lesson on how fast we can get off the planet before they notice we’re gone,” he said. 

Ahsoka’s jaw dropped. Surely he didn’t--he didn’t actually--he  _ did  _ agree with her--he actually thought she was right--

“What are you waiting for?” Anakin demanded, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Artoo’s got the  _ Twilight  _ up front for us, but we can’t take long!” 

Ahsoka shook her head and grinned. 

“My mistake, Master,” she said. “Let’s go.” 

Sometimes, having Anakin Skywalker for a teacher  _ wasn’t  _ the worst thing in the galaxy. 


	3. Day 5: Whumptober - Failed Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jedi Padawan Luke, captured by the Empire, attempts an escape.

Luke wasn’t going to panic. He was not going to panic, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t. He was a Skywalker, after all, and Skywalkers did not fear. 

But it was so hard not to, when he’d been captured by the same Sith Lord who had cut his master down.

So hard, when he was only _fifteen_ and the only person who’d loved him was dead. 

When he’d been thrown in a cell and knew he was going to be tortured. 

When Darth Vader had come to his cell and _told_ _him_ he was going to be tortured. 

When an officer had come to badger him with questions, and he’d been injected with something, he didn’t know what–and then he’d been lying in a puddle of vomit in his cell, and the officer looked triumphant. 

_Someone tell Lord Vader,_ he had said.

It was so hard not to panic, when he knew they must have gotten _something_ out of him. And he’d been angry, and determined–and for a few seconds, as he got himself out of his cell, as he reached for the Force to use a mind trick on the guard. 

But then the whole ship had been on alert, as he stumbled half sick through the halls, and the fear returned. They were all after him. Vader was after him, and when they found him–

Then there would be even more torture. 

Why, then, had he tried to escape? 

But all Luke knew was that he had to get away. He had to get away, he had to escape; he couldn’t die here. 

_Someone tell Lord Vader._ Tell him what? What had Luke said? What had they made him say? It was so hard not to shake with revulsion at the thought of it, of having given them anything–

 _What had he said?_

_No–no, keep going, keep going, you have to get out–_

Footsteps. There were footsteps behind him–he could hear them–

_Focus. FOCUS!_

They were coming. They were coming. And the hangar of ships was just ahead, not too many turns–at least he didn’t think so–

But what if he just let them kill him? 

It was a thought that Luke hadn’t dared to think before; but with the terror of the past hours, whatever that Imperial had put in his bloodstream–

_“I do not know your name, boy. But I will know it, and many other things–and when I am finished with you, you will only wish you were dead.”_

Luke almost vomited again. 

After _that_ encounter–

Was it his name? 

Had he given away his name? 

After _that–_

The Stormtroopers were after him; they were Imperials, and they would not be kind. If one of them would happen to hit him…and he didn’t jump out of the way–

Then they wouldn’t be able to torture him. 

Then Darth Vader wouldn’t be able to tear his mind apart until he broke. 

Obi-Wan wouldn’t want him to do it, Obi-Wan would want him to keep fighting. But–but–he was _only fifteen,_ how–how was he supposed to deal with _this?_

But the hangar was _right there._

Maybe he could still get away. 

Luke ran faster. And faster, and faster, and faster. Almost there–he was relieved he hadn’t decided to die, yes, that was relief he was feeling–

He was _not_ going to panic. 

“There he is!” 

Luke couldn’t move fast enough; a shot echoed. 

There was a brief second of confusion–of pain, of terror, but those were distant–of a dark presence, furious, absolutely _furious–_

He was falling. 

He reached up a hand to touch his side; it came away wet, and bloody. But the blood kept coming; it stained his jacket, dripped onto the floor–

And he started screaming. 

Being shot was more painful, more horrifying, than he had ever expected it to be; and Luke did not want to die if it felt like this. He’d never felt such agony before. He collapsed onto the floor, screaming–

But he did not panic. 

Because, a few seconds later, the pain was gone…and darkness was starting to creep in. 

It felt peaceful, actually. 

Luke opened his eyes sluggishly, stared down at the stain on his jacket, felt the blood pooling under him. Maybe he was delirious; but maybe it was okay. 

He could die like this. It would be okay. 

And then the anger returned; the dark presence was _there_ now, coming closer, and he almost knew what it was–

“MOVE!” a voice roared. “Prepare a medic! And _you–”_

It was not aimed at him, it was…someone else. Anger soared in the Force anyway, and he felt someone die. 

No. No, no, no–

A shadow loomed over him. 

Now he panicked. 

NO. 

It was Obi-Wan’s murderer, it was his would-be tormenter–

And Luke had not escaped. 

Even worse, he had not died. 

“No–” He barely registered that he was speaking at all. He only knew he had to get away from Vader, he _had to get away._ He didn’t know anything, he didn’t. Obi-Wan hadn’t told him anything. But they weren’t going to believe him, they were going to rip his mind apart, and he was _terrified._

Luke was bleeding from a hole in his side, he could barely move, but he moved anyway; dragged himself up as much as he could–almost screamed again from the pain, but he had to move–and began to edge away, inch by inch, _pathetically,_ but at least he was _moving–_

Immediately, Vader came closer; _sped_ forward, actually, with terrifying speed. 

“Do _not_ move,” the Sith lord snarled. Oh, he was _furious,_ and Luke felt sick at the idea of what was about to happen to him. 

“No…” His voice came out in a whimper; he looked desperately up at the giant of a man, hoping the terror on his face would convince him. “I…I promise I don’t know anything–”

Vader’s fury, which had been _soaring_ in the Force, vanished suddenly. Luke didn’t know what to make of that. 

But if Vader was distracted–then–then maybe he had a chance. He could almost feel himself continue to get weaker, but he didn’t care; he moved backward, just an inch–

And suddenly, Luke couldn’t move. At all. 

He tried–he twisted, pushed at the ground, but he couldn’t budge. Vader had effectively frozen him still, with the Force. 

Luke didn’t want to look; he didn’t want that mask to be the last thing he ever saw. But he couldn’t help it, he was so _exhausted._ So he looked up, shaking. 

Vader just stood there. Luke didn’t know what he was thinking; there was no way to know. 

And then he reached out a hand; Luke squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. He was going to reach into his head, to–to torment him–and Luke couldn’t move. He couldn’t do _anything–_

But the hand merely settled on his head. Gloved fingers combed through his hair, in a gentle–like a–almost like a caress. At the same time, the Force’s iron grip left him; but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t escape anyway. 

Luke froze, of his own will this time. He didn’t know what to do. What–what was Vader–

Was he _dreaming?_

“Do not move,” Vader said, but much softer than he had the first time. “I do not want you to injure yourself further; I do not want you to die.”

 _Yeah, because you want me to_ wish _for death, I’m a Jedi and you want to torment me–_

 _“No,”_ Vader hissed, and Luke flinched; but then Vader’s anger retracted again, and the fingers resumed their careful stroking. “No. No, I do not want to see you tormented. By _anyone._ I do not want you hurt _ever_ again. I did not know who you were before, but I…I know now, and I _swear_ that I will not let anything happen to you.” 

Yes. Yes, Luke had given them his name. 

But why? What did Vader mean? Why didn’t he want to torture Luke? 

“Why?” he echoed out loud, his voice a whisper. He could only see Vader’s mask; everything else had faded around him. 

“You will find out soon.” Vader’s hand left his head; but a moment later there was a warm, soft fabric wrapped around him, especially tight at his abdomen. Not perfect, but it–it staunched the blood, just a little. “But for now, you must recover.” 

Luke couldn’t even think. He couldn’t understand; what was going _on?_

Then there were large hands under him, and he was lifted, blanket and all, into the monster’s arms. He couldn’t resist; he couldn’t even try. 

He was cold, anyway–he’d realized that. He was utterly cold. 

And the armor he was being held against, like a little child, was unbelievably warm. 

And, despite everything, Luke couldn’t bring himself to panic.


	4. Day 6: Angstober - Nightmares Come Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Bespin, Luke is plagued by nightmares. But one night...the nightmares change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prequel scene/companion piece to my fic Family Finds A Way. If you haven't read it, you should be able to understand it, but there will be some spoilers towards the end.

The days after Bespin were a constant existence of panic attacks, nightmares, and flashbacks.

That was all that existed. Every second, Luke was either remembering and panicking when he looked at his missing hand, waking up screaming in the middle of the night, or completely zoning out in a conversation because something sent him back _there,_ to the winds whistling over the chasm, to that horrible voice telling him things that he didn’t want to know, things that were true, things that were right. That was all that existed: a constant nightmare, one he didn’t seem to be able to wake up from. 

Somewhere in-between, there was Leia, calming him down and stroking his hair back from his forehead after every nightmare; there was the surgery to fit him with a new hand; there was Chewie, reminding him of funny things Han used to do; there was Lando, bringing him water, and food, and literally anything Luke needed because of how guilty he felt. 

Eventually, the worst of it passed. Luke began to be more aware of what was happening; he was able to control what he was saying, just a little more, enough to send Lando off and put on a brave face at the rendezvous with the Rebellion. But when they returned to the base, there was more panicking, more nightmares; because Han wasn’t here, and it was Luke’s fault, and _everything_ was Luke’s fault. 

Things got better, but not everything. It was still difficult to eat. He still had nightmares. 

And every so often, depending on where they were in the galaxy, there was a touch, a whisper along the bond that had developed that he _hated,_ and he couldn’t get away from it. Physically, yes--but when he returned the memory of it was still in his nightmares. 

And then, one day, the nightmares changed.

They began as the usual: as flashbacks. Being pushed backward along the catwalk, the red blade coming down over his wrist; it was all the same. The same horrifying memory. 

Vader loomed out of the shadows to meet him. 

Objects flying at him.

He fell, down and down and down--walked through the familiar grate that opened for him. He heard Han screaming, as before. 

But instead of Bespin...he was, quite suddenly, somewhere else. 

He was standing in a long, white hallway, a corridor he had never seen before, perfectly white. This was confusing. He’d never been here before, had never seen this place in his entire life--

There was someone behind him. 

Luke spun around, already prepared; but nothing was there. Only the whiteness of the hall behind him. It was almost unsettling in its perfection…

Was Vader there, somehow? Was this all a trick of the Force? A hallucination? A--

“Luke?”

Luke forgot Vader immediately, because that--that was _Han’s_ voice. He turned back immediately...and this time, the white corridor was stained with blood. 

What...the hell?

There was blood everywhere. There was so much Luke thought he might be sick; but Han was in one of those rooms up ahead--and this time Luke could save him. This time he could help him. 

He ran forward instantly, feet almost slipping in the blood, and flung the door open. 

Han wasn’t there. Instead, there was a little girl.

“Luke?” she said, her voice shaking. 

Luke didn’t know who she was--but she was trussed up like an animal, blood on her face. He had to help her. He reached out--

And smoke rose from the floor, enveloping the girl. 

Coming toward him, snatching at his hand--Bespin. Vader. He lunged back, shouting in terror, yanked himself away...and fell onto the floor, free of the darkness. 

But where his hand had been was a gaping wound. Blood dripped onto the floor-- _his_ blood.

And a monster emerged out of the shadows in front of him. 

_Vader,_ Luke thought immediately, edging backwards desperately. He couldn’t see the monster, but he could sense it coming; it was large, and dark, and ready to either kill him or...something else. _It’s--it’s--_

Then a lightsaber ignited... _behind_ him.

Luke turned quickly, his heart jumping into his throat _. There_ was Vader, bearing down on him, red lightsaber extended.

“No,” Luke muttered. “No, no--”

But the monster didn’t stop coming. And then, as he watched in horror, Vader pulled Luke’s blue lightsaber into his hand.

For a moment, Luke forgot the dark room.

“Join me or _die,_ ” Vader said, "my son.”

Vader was going to kill him. Luke curled in on himself, trying to present a smaller target, but it would be no use--

Then the walls shook.

The entire _building_ shook. 

Luke looked back at the dark room. If Vader was behind him, then what-- _what was that?_

The building shook more. The walls crumpled, even as Vader advanced on him, ready to cut him down...Luke curled further in on himself. Which would get him first? Vader? Or--or--

The very earth trembled. Luke looked down--the pool of his blood on the floor was shaking. 

Luke looked back up at the door. 

And a scaly claw reached out to grip the wall.

All the other nightmares had left him screaming, sobbing, gasping for breath. 

This one...just left him confused. 

A white hallway. Han. Blood. Two monsters: one that was Vader, and one that was...something else. Compared to all the others, it felt odd. 

And just a little eerie. 

_Are you okay?_

Artoo. He was always so concerned. Luke turned toward him with a smile. 

“Yeah, actually,” he said. “More than usual. But I…I...” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s too weird.” 

What had that been? 

Luke didn’t think about it too much. Not even when the same nightmare--or rather, two different versions of it--followed the next two nights. Both brought with them memories of Bespin, horrifying memories. But they also brought those strange new images. He didn’t know what to make of them. 

So he didn’t think about it. 

Not until he was standing in a long hallway, the child from the vision at his side, there was a set of peculiar claws marking the walls...and when they got into the turbolift, Darth Vader was waiting for him. 

His nightmares, it seemed, had come true. 

But if Vader was here...that begged the question. 

_Where was the second monster?_


	5. Day 11: Whumptober - Psych 101(Defiance/Struggling)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia has never been afraid of monsters; at seven years old, she doesn't believe they're real. But being captured by Emperor Palpatine himself for his own nefarious purposes changes her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prequel of sorts to my fic Binary Accretion; all you need to know is that Leia was captured at the age of seven to be brainwashed into being Vader's assassin. 
> 
> Warning for child abuse/Palpatine being generally creepy in this one.

The last thing she remembered, she was with her parents; her father was reading her a story, and she was telling him everything that was wrong with it. People couldn’t  _ actually  _ fly. Monsters didn’t  _ actually  _ exist. Creatures did, she’d learned about that from her science teachers--but monsters were nonexistent. 

Then there were shouts. 

There was a hiss, like something had been ignited. Like a lightsaber. 

And she was waking up. 

She was in a cold, sterile room; nothing around her except the bed she was lying in. And that wasn’t very comfortable, either. 

Abruptly, she realized she must have been kidnapped. 

There was terror, for a split second; and then, she understood why. Sometimes her father spoke of what he called “political enemies,” and assassins, and kidnapping. She was being used, maybe, to get to her father. 

But then why had they put her in this crappy room? Hostages weren’t supposed to be treated like that. 

“I’m a Princess!” she shouted to whoever must have been outside. “Get me a better bed!” 

“Oh, my dear.” The voice came from somewhere in the room; Leia jumped. She hadn’t seen anyone else in here! “I do not think you will be needing a  _ bed  _ any time soon.” 

The someone in the shadows moved forward into the light, and Leia saw who it was. 

Emperor Palpatine. She’d seen him on holos, her father had met with him; and, worst of all, he was  _ evil.  _ He was trying to oppress the galaxy, for himself. 

She didn’t know what he was talking about. But she wondered if it meant…

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked. She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking, just slightly.

“Kill you?” The Emperor actually  _ laughed,  _ like he found what she had said funny in some way. It hadn’t been funny to her, so that was rude. “Why would I want to kill you?”

He was trying to mess with her. But Leia had learned that in those situations, you gave adults logic and facts. They couldn’t argue that way out of that one--and even at seven years old, she was  _ very  _ good at arguing. 

“Because,” Leia said, “you hate my father.” 

That was a fact. She must have won. 

Except that the Emperor smiled. 

“Your father?” He shook his head. “Oh, I do not hate your father. I want...to  _ help  _ him.” He took a step forward. “You see, child, your father is not who you thought he was.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. That, too, was a fact. She didn’t need to pretend to understand. 

She didn’t  _ want  _ to understand. 

“You will understand...later. But for now, all you need to know is that your father...is not doing so well, these days. I would like to help him.” His smile stretched wider. “Would  _ you  _ like to help him?”

_ Yes,  _ was what he wanted her to say.  _ Yes.  _ She could feel it pulling at her…

But somehow, she knew that he was trying to trick her. He was talking down to her, and she’d never liked adults who did that; he was  _ not  _ obeying the rules of diplomacy. He was not telling her the full truth. 

“No!” she shouted. “You would never help my father, so I don’t want to, either!” 

The Emperor tilted his head. He was studying her, he...he was going to do something. But she didn’t know what. 

“You will,” he said. “You  _ will  _ want to help him. But at the moment, your mind...it is too cluttered. There are too many other... _ things  _ in there.” He bent down to her level, and this close, he was  _ horrifying.  _ It was like his skin had melted down onto itself, and he looked as if he should be several hundred years old.

_ This  _ was a  _ real  _ monster.

Her parents had been right. 

“Yes,” he reiterated, “there is too much in your mind for you to focus on helping your father.” He smiled; it, like all the others, was not a smile that reached his eyes. “Let me help you.” 

He reached out a hand. 

She struggled, threw herself away; she did not want him to touch her. She did not want him to do anything to her. She scrambled away from him--

And the Emperor hit the wall. 

How…

Had she…

She’d done  _ something.  _ She didn’t know what it was, but he was going to do something  _ awful  _ to her now, she just knew it…

But as the Emperor recovered himself and stood, he was...he was  _ laughing.  _

“Oh,” he said, “I am  _ glad  _ that I chose you. You, my dear, you have such... _ raw potential.”  _

She couldn’t say anything. She could only sit there, terrified, and stare at him. 

“But you are a fighter,” he said, “and unfortunately, that will get in the way. So we must remove that.” 

He reached for her. 

This time, she couldn’t reach the darkness as it penetrated her mind, poured itself over the shields she hadn’t even known existed, right into her soul. In an instant, she saw everything that had happened in her life. Papa laughing as he told her stories, carried her around on his back; Mama laughing uncontrollably at the mess Leia had made of her dresses; the little droid she’d made friends with. Dancing in the moonlight. A lullaby, a soft whisper--another baby, another presence--a woman’s sad, sad smile. 

_ “Leia.”  _

And then it was gone. 


	6. Day 11: Flufftober - Clenched Fists/Whumptober - Broken Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has been on the run from his father for years...but the hunt is finally over.

Luke woke to find the world upside down. 

For a moment, all he felt was confusion. He was too tired, too dizzy for any kind of thought–the last thing he remembered was–

He couldn’t remember.

But suddenly he realized that there was a impossibly strong grip on his legs–he was dangling from some sort of height–

Furthermore, his _hands_ dangled in front of him, and they were _bound._

And given that the one thing in his line of vision was Darth Vader’s cape–

“Shit!” He tried to twist around to look at his father, but he couldn’t. “What the– _what the_ _hell, Father!”_

“Ah.” He hated the amusement in Vader’s voice. Was this supposed to be _funny?_ He’d been _captured._ “You are awake.” 

_“Yes,_ I’m awake! Put me down!”

Vader only tightened his grip on Luke’s legs and kept walking. Luke couldn’t even see where they were going; he couldn’t remember what had happened, so he had no way of guessing. This was endlessly frustrating.

“Do you mean you don’t remember?”

“No.” This position was starting to make him really dizzy. It made him feel like he had to close his eyes and not do anything–which was probably exactly what Vader wanted. Luke clenched his fists in frustration. “But I _do_ know that I don’t want you to capture me, and I _definitely_ don’t want to be carried like this!” 

“Oh.” Something was off–there was something in Vader’s voice that he should have been aware of, but wasn’t. “So, you wish to walk? Very well.” 

Unexpectedly, Vader let go of him entirely, and Luke was dropped to the ground. That was…surprising…but at least his father had listened. Luke got both his feet under him and, scowling, took a step in the other direction. 

Immediately, pain flared in his ankle–his leg gave out. Temporarily, darkness fell. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the ground looking up at Vader. 

“Okay,” he said. “That is officially the _worst_ thing you’ve ever done. _Why_ would you do that? Why didn’t you tell me I was injured?”

He was not imagining the smugness in Vader’s voice. “I thought I would let you figure it out on your own. You seem so set on being independent, after all.”

“Yeah, because I’m an _adult!”_

“An adult who decided, after sixteen years of being raised in the Empire, to join the Rebellion. That is hardly a mature decision.” 

“Hardly–!” Luke could barely even find the words to reply to _that._ “That’s _subjective._ And, by the way, I’m pretty sure _Mother_ would have supported my decision.” 

The air went cold, and Luke knew he’d gone too far. 

“Say that again,” Vader said quietly, “and you will wish a broken leg was _all_ that you had to worry about.” 

Luke opened his mouth to retort; and then, he remembered what had actually happened. He must have hit his head on top of everything else to forget that much. Three years, _three years_ he’d been able to avoid his father and the Empire–and then had come the raid on the base, and just as he’d been making his escape, his leg had been crushed by a falling pillar. 

“How bad is it broken?” he asked. 

“You will require a bacta soak,” came the reply, and–ouch. 

Luke wrinkled his nose. “I _hate_ bacta soaks. They stink, and they make me feel really…well, I don’t like being suspended practically _naked_ in front of dozens of doctors and med droids.” 

“If you had not joined the Rebellion, you would not need to worry about it.” 

Luke looked up. “Bold words for the man who dropped the pillar on me to begin with.” 

_Uh-oh,_ Luke thought as Vader grew silent again. _I_ really _went too far now._

Being away for so long, and leaving in the way that he had, had not been beneficial after all. Vader had been _furious_ about his leaving–Luke had felt it, halfway across the galaxy, and it had terrified him–and it had been three years, and he had _no idea_ how to gauge his father’s moods anymore–

Suddenly, there was a very strange burst of static from the vocoder, and–and–Luke froze in stunned silence. Vader was _laughing._

That sound had been rare enough in the days when Luke was the Imperial prince; it hadn’t even been expected from the man who’d hunted him so relentlessly over three years, and hearing it now made Luke feel slightly warm and fuzzy. It reminded him of sitting in front of a holo show when he was six years old, curled up in Vader’s cape and complaining about the show’s production value, and feeling his father’s laugh rumbling against him. 

“I had forgotten,” Vader said at last, “what a sense of humor you have.” He harrumphed. “Not very befitting for a prince, I suppose.” 

Luke smirked. “Maybe that’s why I joined the Rebellion.” 

Vader didn’t laugh–but he did reach down to ruffle Luke’s hair. 

Luke had actually _missed_ that, he realized. He’d missed his father…and in three years, _so much had changed._

_Don’t cry._ _Do_ not _cry, not now, not in front of him, he’ll use that against you–_

“You’re…you’re not–” Luke blinked furiously. “Palpatine knows you found me, doesn’t he?”

Of course he would. Palpatine was the reason he’d left in the first place…

“No,” Vader said, surprising him again. “And he will not.” 

Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “You–you really–” _Don’t cry, don’t cry._ “Thank you.” 

“It is not over yet,” Vader said, sounding ominous now. 

“Well, at least I’m not entirely in danger. That’s gotta count for something.” 

Out of habit, Luke pushed his legs up to stand; he fell back down with a cry. Immediately, his father’s Force presence reacted in alarm. 

“No,” he said as Vader reached for him, “not again, don’t–”

But Vader didn’t throw him over his shoulder this time– _thank the Force_ –instead, he sort of…cradled him like a baby against his chest.

Luke did not know what he thought about that comparison.

“That’s…marginally better,” Luke said. “I still wish I could walk, though.” 

“I am…sorry about that.” Wow, how many times had Vader actually apologized for anything? “It was the only way I could think of to capture you quickly. I mis-timed it; the pillar was not supposed to actually harm you.” Vader’s hands tightened around Luke; Luke could tell it was an unspoken apology. “And I could not have carried you out of there like this. You must understand I had to make it _look_ as if you were just another prisoner.”

“Yeah. Okay. It was humiliating, though.” Luke looked drowsily up at his father’s mask; his head was really starting to hurt. “Being carried at _all_ is humiliating. I don’t like it.” 

“Is it? Is that all?”

Luke’s gut twisted. No, it wasn’t–there was also the fact that Vader used to pick him up like that when he was small and had hurt himself racing, or climbing around, or anything else he’d gotten up to as a child. Being held at all, being held against Vader’s chest like that made him feel so small, and so vulnerable, and…and…and so _protected,_ and it reminded him of much better days. 

Days that he would never get back. 

But he couldn’t let Vader know that, or his father might think he stood a real chance of turning him into a Sith. 

“Yeah, it’s all,” was what he said. “Would _you_ like being carted around like a kriffing baby?”

“Language,” Vader chided him. “And…if I am being honest, I thought you would have liked it, to some degree, because of who we used to be. Unless, that is, you have not missed me at all.”

This time, Luke couldn’t deny that. And now he was really trying not to cry.

Additionally, the satisfaction he felt from Vader as he was carried into the shuttle wasn’t quite as terrible as he thought it would be. 

At least, he thought, his father was happy to have him home.


	7. Day 14: Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the previous one.

At long last, Vader had his son back in his castle on Mustafar. He had him _home._ It was something he had dreamed of for three years, something he had yearned for–to see those large blue eyes looking eagerly up at him, the sweet expressions Luke would bestow on him, the small form curled up in a corner, where he’d fallen asleep watching the stars…

He had thought it would never happen again.

He had thought Luke was lost to him forever.

And now Luke was _here._ It was almost too much to believe. His child, his sweet boy, had come home.

Luke spent the first two days in bacta–his leg needed healing–and it took every ounce of self-control Vader possessed not to stand there _constantly,_ just to take in the sight of him and commit him to memory once again(one of the horrors of the past three years had been the realization that Luke’s appearance was beginning to fade from his memory). 

But he also knew that Luke found the ordeal of being in a bacta tank embarrassing, so he tried to only be in the room when he needed to speak to the doctors, or when Luke was sleeping. 

(Once he couldn’t help it and stayed longer just to see Luke’s blue eyes blink open, just to raise his hand in greeting–and to laugh when Luke, in response, raised a finger at him in an obscene gesture.)

And then, then he was out of the tank at last, and Vader forced himself to stay out of Luke’s room. To give him whatever space he needed. Luke would not want to come to him immediately; he would have to wait. And it would be agonizing. 

The next morning, however, he was awoken by a _crash_ in Luke’s wing of the castle.

Vader was up immediately, and was almost running through the halls until he had arrived.

Luke was staring up at him from the floor, looking slightly dazed. 

“What did you DO?” Vader demanded. 

“I jumped from the banister to see if my acrobatics had improved,” Luke said dryly. 

_“Luke!”_

“Okay, okay.” Luke raised his hands. “It should be obvious. I woke up in a bed for the first time in days, I wanted to see if I knew for _sure_ where I was, I…shouldn’t have been walking yet.” 

_“No,”_ Vader said, reaching out a hand to help him up. “You were supposed to _stay put._ Yes, you have been through bacta, but that does not magically–”

“Well, you weren’t there to tell me what was even going on,” Luke snapped, putting one hand on the wall to keep him steady, “and I was afraid that I’d been actually captured and that everything had been just a bad dream–” His shoulders slumped, and he looked away. “I was right after all. It wasn’t a bad dream.”

Vader didn’t know what to say to that. _He_ was happy to have Luke home, he was _beyond happy;_ his son, his boy, the most perfect and wonderful being in the world was back with him–but, it turned out, Luke _himself_ was none too happy about it. He felt…he felt that he was a prisoner.

He _was_ a prisoner. 

Vader needed to make him happy, needed to win back his trust; Luke should not feel _sad_ to be here at all. 

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to even _begin._ All he knew was that he could never bear the idea of Luke being sad. 

“I…wanted to give you space,” he said. He was so unsure of what to say, unsure of how to convey what he felt, and what he wanted Luke to feel. “That is why I was not with you this morning. I did not want you…to be…overwhelmed.” 

He almost flinched at the awkwardness of his words. When had talking to his son become so difficult? So…strange? It had always been difficult, talking to everyone, finding the words; but somehow, Luke had been excluded from that group. _He_ had been easy to talk to, because he knew Vader, and he was always so open about what he felt. But now it was as if he was closed off, alien; strange, somehow. And Vader no longer knew how to talk to him. 

But then, to his surprise, the look of uncertainty on Luke’s face cleared, just a little. 

“You were…giving me space?” he asked. 

Vader nodded. 

Luke snorted. “Well, that’s a first.” 

Vader didn’t know how to respond to that either. What was that even supposed to mean? That Luke didn’t expect him to be…a father? That he expected to be treated like any Rebel prisoner?

The thought made Vader furious, absolutely livid; but he couldn’t take that out on Luke. Not when he was supposed to try to make Luke happy. 

“I care about you, son,” he said quietly. “Do not forget that.” 

_“I_ didn’t.” Luke crossed his arms. “But maybe you did.” 

“I–” For a moment, Vader had no words. “What are you _talking about?”_

And then it was _Luke_ who was angry. Vader felt it–felt the anger explode into the Force, and couldn’t help but think to himself what an excellent Sith his son would make. But he knew he couldn’t dare say that.

“Because you hunted me down!” Luke shouted. “Because I felt you _angry_ the day I left, I felt it across the galaxy, and the next thing I knew there were Stormtroopers hunting me everywhere I turned, my friends were being shot down and captured and killed–”

“Luke,” Vader started, but it was useless. 

“There was an assassin in my room!” Luke burst out. “An _assassin,_ and I have _this_ to show for it!” 

He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal an ugly red scar across his chest, snaking down and across, and–

_What?_

Vader saw red. 

“That’s why I don’t trust you,” Luke continued to shout at him, regardless of how his leg was starting to shake, “that’s why I wouldn’t believe that you would want to ‘give me space,’ that’s–”

Everything else was drowned out. Vader gripped both of Luke’s arms. Luke cried out and struggled against him, but Vader wasn’t going to let him go. 

“What do you mean,” he growled, “there was an _assassin?”_

An expression of utter bewilderment crossed Luke’s face. 

“The– _the assassin,”_ he stammered. “He came from the Empire, he said–he said that you had sent him–”

There had been no assassin. 

And Vader knew, instantly, what had happened: Palpatine had deceived him. Palpatine had taken matters into his own hands, had tried to kill his son–

“I,” he snarled, “did _not_ send that assassin.”

Luke’s eyes blew wide, searched Vader’s mask furiously–it was clear at once that he had harbored fears over this for quite some time. And no wonder, if the assassin had wounded him so terribly; he must have barely escaped with his life. 

“You–you–” Luke looked as if he didn’t know what to even think. “You _didn’t?_ But then–how–but then _why–”_

“Palpatine did,” Vader hissed, and he was barely able to contain his rage. _“Palpatine_ sent that assassin–I was utterly unaware of it until you told me. Let me see–how badly–”

Luke tried to back away. “No.” 

_“Why not?”_

“Because if you look at it with this news in mind, you’ll get angry and you’ll do a lot of things that will make you feel awful.” He was looking up at Vader, a pleading look in his eyes. “I don’t want you to do that.” 

He wasn’t angry at Palpatine. At least…that wasn’t his primary emotion.

He was worried for _Vader._ He knew him too well; he did not want his father to be lost in anger and revenge. 

That, more than anything, forced Vader to relax. 

He let go of Luke’s arms, and when his son stumbled backward, unsteady, Vader took hold of Luke’s head, cupped his small face in his hands, and stared. This was his world…this was his entire _galaxy,_ right here in his hands, and he needed nothing else. 

“You…you are…” Vader struggled for words. “You are _perfect,_ in every possible way.” 

“That’s fallacious, Father,” Luke said. “No one’s _literally_ perfect. That’d be impossible.”

Vader chuckled. He had not laughed in three years; but already, in the last forty-eight hours, he had laughed three times. And it was all because of Luke. 

“Well, then,” he said, “you are as close to perfect as anyone in the galaxy will ever get. You…” He brushed his thumb over Luke’s cheek, and decided to take a risk and say something he had not said in three years. “You are my wonderful, perfect little starbird.” 

To his horror, Luke’s perfect blue eyes filled with tears. 

Vader withdrew instantly. He had said something wrong. Luke had not wanted to be reminded of their time years ago, of course not, and there was naturally the stigma associated with the starbird now that he had been in the Rebellion, and–

 _“No,”_ Luke said, his voice cracking. “No, Father, I’m not upset, I–” He wiped a tear from his eye and…and smiled. “I’m _happy.”_

Vader stilled. 

“You didn’t send the assassin,” Luke said, his voice quavering, “you _do_ love me, you called me–” His face crumpled, and he started to cry, but bizarrely, he was…he was supposed to be _happy?_ “You called me your starbird, and that’s what used to happen–” He was really starting to cry now, but Vader could still just make out what he was saying. “When I did something you were _proud of,_ and–”

“Luke,” Vader said. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened. “Why would I not be proud of you?”

That did it. Luke burst into sobs. 

The idea of Luke crying while he was happy was a bizarre one, but–but it had used to happen, Vader remembered. Luke was highly emotional, sensitive, loving, he grew so happy that he started sobbing–and that meant that he was still _Luke._

Nothing had changed. 

Before Vader knew what he was doing, he had wrapped his arms around Luke and crushed him against his chest in a hug that had been three years in the making. 

There was a temporary gasp of surprise from Luke–and then he wormed his arms free, and Vader felt the two small arms wrapping around _him_ in return. 

“I thought you would…you would never be proud of me,” Luke whispered into his chest. “After I left you, after I became a Rebel–”

“No, Luke. _Never.”_ Vader moved one hand up to stroke Luke’s hair, and felt Luke burrow even closer to him in response. He smiled behind the mask, smiled so wide it was _painful,_ but he didn’t care. “I disapprove of your choice; and above anything, I was sad that you were gone. The knowledge that you were out there, in every kind of danger, that you had willingly left me…it tore at me. It was the end of my world. It was _that_ that caused me to hunt you–not because you were a Rebel. And not once would I _not_ have been proud of you.” He clutched Luke tighter; it had been so long, so long since he had held his son like this. “I will _always_ be proud of you, my son.” 

The sobs returned–but they meant that he was happy, that he knew his father was proud of him, that he knew he was _safe._ Luke was back with his father–the possibilities that lay in front of them were endless. Vader did not know what would come in the future; he only knew that Luke was here, he was with him, and because of that everything would be better. Thinking of this, he rocked back and forth, just as if Luke was a baby again; he felt Luke relax into him, hugged him tighter in response–

“Father, stop–” Luke gasped out. “Ow–too tight–”

That’s right; Luke was not made half out of durasteel as he was. He had to be gentle–he had not had to be gentle for three years. Vader let him go. 

“I am…sorry,” he said ruefully. “It has been too long.” 

Luke smiled. He hadn’t laughed, yet; but after this, Vader hoped it would come soon. 

“There’s nothing to forget,” Luke said. “You hugged me too tight before, too. You–”

He broke off. He was ready to say something; he was biting his lip, and that–Vader remembered. That was what he always did when he didn’t want to admit defeat. 

“You were right, Father,” he said at last, shyly. “I _did_ miss you.”

And that was the exact moment that Vader realized all the wonderful possibilities that awaited them. Luke was his again–Luke was his son, he was with him…and if Luke was willing to admit he had missed being home, then anything was possible. 


	8. Day 17: Whumptober - Wrongly Accused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Naberrie knows what his fate will be, and that he can't escape; but somehow, Vader is there to reassure him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tie-in to my Luke Naberrie AU! I'll continue it at some point, but until now find the first two parts of the story [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492334/chapters/58309951) and [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492334/chapters/58355254#workskin)

Luke came awake to the sensation of movement: not of himself being moved–that would have been frightening–but of constant movement, something he was unfamiliar with. As he opened his eyes, he saw why. 

The glittering blue of hyperspace was in front of his eyes; for the first time in his life, he was very far away from home. And he remembered why. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would help him hide from the truth. He was being transported to Coruscant on an Imperial shuttle, in Darth Vader’s custody…to be put in a cell. To be put on trial. Because, for some nonsensical reason, he had been accused of murdering an Imperial governor. 

He knew what usually happened to cases like his. 

He knew what the _precedent_ was. 

The Empire didn’t _care_ about random citizens who’d been accused of murder. Whether the accusation was right or wrong didn’t matter to them–they only cared if justice was done. And if the target was young, and innocent, and weak…that would make it even easier. _Maybe_ they’d do something a little more, at least put up a show of giving him a fair trial, due to where he came from and who he was…but it would be just that. A _show._

No one here would care about him. No one would even care that he was going to die, and that he wasn’t guilty; he knew what the Empire was like.

Well. There was the fact that Vader was promising to prove him innocent. But, given everything that Luke had heard about Vader, he wasn’t very inclined to believe that; not to mention that it was Vader who had come in and dragged him away, who had nearly killed his father just to threaten him into going, who had struck him and almost killed _Luke_ until…

Until what?

Luke didn’t remember, exactly. Everything was sort of a haze, but he knew it had something to do with his birth mother. 

And it had been so sudden–so, ultimately, he didn’t trust Vader. Not at all. 

No one cared about him. Luke tried to picture his mother’s face–his real mother, the mother who’d raised him as a son–and was temporarily successful; but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of Vader’s skeletal mask looming over him, filling his entire vision…

“Child,” boomed a voice behind him and Luke _flinched,_ because _there he was_ , and there was no escape.

Luke spun around immediately; Vader stood a mere few feet from him, looming over him. Slowly, he tucked his knees to his chest. Maybe if he looked small enough and frightened enough, Vader wouldn’t feel the need to do anything more to him. 

“What do you want?” Luke asked in a small voice. 

For several seconds, Vader just stood there, and Luke’s heart pumped faster. Didn’t he realize how terrifying he was just by existing? That he didn’t _have_ to torture or kill or do anything to ensure that everyone would listen to him? 

“Did you sleep well?” Vader asked. 

_What?_ That, of all questions, Luke had not expected. What did Vader care if he had slept well? Unless, of course, he was telling the truth? 

But what reason would he _have_ to care about Luke?

“I…I…” Somehow, Luke found his voice, though it was a mere whisper. “Yes.” 

“Good.” The Sith was back to being cold, brisk. “We have arrived.” 

Luke’s stomach dropped. Desperately, he turned to look out the viewport; and, sure enough, hyperspace was gone. The shuttle was waiting in the dark of space, before…

Coruscant. 

The place where he would die. 

_Not going to die, I’m not going to die–_

“Do not fear,” Vader said, his voice curiously soft. He moved a hand toward Luke; but when Luke instinctively flinched back, he stopped.

“I–I can’t help it.” Luke knew he was voicing his fears about this to Vader–but he was completely alone out here, and the Dark Lord was the closest thing to hope that he even had, and he was desperate, and _scared._ “I’m being handed over to the Empire, by–by _you–”_

He broke off. He couldn’t say any more; already, he seemed to sense Vader’s anger grow. 

And he could sense it at all because…he had the Force? That was it? 

He didn’t know. All he knew was he didn’t want to get choked again. 

“You have no reason to trust me, Naberrie,” Vader said, and the way his last name sounded was…there was something there, and Luke couldn’t tell what it was. “I understand that. But I _meant_ what I said earlier.” 

Luke felt compelled to look at him. There was a kind of intensity in Vader’s voice, but…but somehow, Luke knew it didn’t mean he was angry.

“You are _not_ going to die,” he said. 

“Uh…” Luke swallowed; said with that much ferocity, he didn’t have much choice but to believe Vader’s words. “Um, uh, okay. But what if–what if the Emperor decides I have to die?”

The Emperor was, after all, the only person in the galaxy who outranked Darth Vader.

But at Luke’s words, Vader reached out–and Luke was too shocked this time, too uncertain, to resist as a very heavy hand was laid on his shoulder. 

“He will not,” Vader said, his tone sounding almost dangerous. 

“But,” Luke protested, and the hand tightened, cutting him off. 

“He will not,” Vader repeated, “because _I won’t let him.”_

And at that, Luke didn’t know if he felt safe. He wouldn’t feel safe _anywhere._

But maybe, he thought, just maybe, he trusted Vader to not let him die.


	9. Day 21: Flufftober - "I Don't Understand"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to days 12 and 14; this is what happened the day Luke ran away.

It had been a very long day. The Imperial governors were insipid fools, either puppets installed by Palpatine so as to more easily control them, or power-hungry individuals who were too ambitious for their own good. Vader detested both kinds equally; and at the end of the day, as he returned to the apartment on Coruscant, he found himself looking forward to seeing his son. Luke was sixteen, growing stronger in the Force with each passing day; but in some ways, he was still the same boy he’d always been. He was overly excited, eager to please, soft, sensitive, loving…and, as always, he inhabited the place closest to Vader’s nonexistent heart. 

That said, Vader had begun to detest every last second that they were on Coruscant, under the Emperor’s watchful eye. They had been here for six months now, ever since Palpatine had ordered him to return to oversee the construction of the Death Star…but Vader disliked being here, disliked being in the presence of these governors who did not understand him, and he wished only to return to his and Luke’s _true_ home, the castle on Mustafar. 

Mustafar was not the most… _opportune_ of locations for raising a child; it was strong in the Dark Side of the Force, and it fed Vader’s already existent anger and pain on a daily basis. But Luke himself seemed so determined to outshine the darkness. As a child, he had thought the lava–the lava that had burned Vader, that had given him his current condition–was actually _beautiful_ in the way it splashed against the shore; once, Vader had even found a drawing of the planet from hell, but the way Luke had drawn the waves of lava, curling upward…it seemed less like fire, and more like the warmth of the sun. Vader wanted to return there, more than ever; because after sixteen years, he had actually grown to enjoy it. 

The moment he entered, Luke’s droid approached him immediately.

“Sir!” it announced, too cheerful as always(of course, Luke had programmed it himself and at this point Vader simply had to deal with it). “There is a transmission waiting for you from the Emperor–”

The Emperor. After an entire day of being made to meet with these governors, Vader decided it could wait. He would see Luke first. 

“Not now,” he growled at the droid, proceeding onwards into the apartment. It was smaller than what both of them had grown used to in the castle; but for an apartment, it was a fairly nice accommodation. At least, Vader felt that–it had taken four months for Luke to stop complaining about how closed in he felt. 

And this was strange; already, Luke had not come to meet him. He always did–he may have been sixteen, but he still, always, came to meet Vader when he returned. 

Except…

He was in school now, on Coruscant. He might have been exhausted from schoolwork; there had been several rare occasions when Vader arrived to find Luke already asleep. 

That must be where he was. 

Vader checked the living room first; sometimes, Luke fell asleep on the couch. But there was no sign of Luke; only the pile of books and homework that he must have left there. 

He shook his head. Luke was growing too old for that sort of thing; he could not leave things lying around. 

Yes, Luke was getting older. The thought was sobering. Vader had protected him for too long, but…Palpatine had mentioned him, several times. Luke would have to decide soon whether he would begin his training as a Sith or not. And, as much as Vader knew how important it was…he also feared that it would strip away all traces of the soft-hearted, caring child that he had raised. 

Only time would tell. 

For now, Luke was still his. Not Palpatine’s. _His._

Forcing the thoughts from his mind, Vader turned and walked toward his son’s door. It would be calming to see Luke asleep; it would have been even more so to talk to him, but he would not wake him up. His son was more exhausted than ever these days, and he needed his rest. 

So, slowly, carefully, he opened the door. Took in the darkened room, the bed–

The _empty_ bed. 

Vader opened the door the rest of the way, confused beyond belief–he didn’t understand. Where was he? He wasn’t here, he wasn’t in the living room–

Had he gone to see a friend? 

No. That had been the night before. Luke would have told him, if he was going anywhere–Luke _always_ told him. 

But then…then where was he? 

A horrible thought struck Vader. Had something _happened_ to him? Coruscant was a dangerous place. He could have been attacked for who he was, beaten nearly to death– 

Instantly he was casting out his senses, searching in the Force for that familiar bright presence, the presence drawn so naturally to him–

It was there, but faint…fainter than Vader had ever felt it. 

And then, abruptly, he noticed something on Luke’s bed. 

A holorecorder. 

He took it immediately, turned it on; and a hologram of Luke sprang into the air. Even at that smaller size, Vader took in the nervousness in Luke’s face; he was on edge, more than Vader had ever seen him. He looked…almost shaken. 

“Hello, Father,” he said, just as he always had; but the tone was too formal, and his voice shook. “I…I have to tell you–” Luke looked down at his hands for a moment, then back up. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Father, but…but I have to leave. Permanently.” 

The words struck Vader like a knife to the heart. 

“I c-can’t tell you why,” Luke said, tears gathering in his eyes; his lip trembled, and Vader knew he was fighting not to cry. “But I’m leaving. I have to leave, I can’t see you ever again, I–”

He broke off, bowed his head for a moment. When he looked back up, there were tears on his face. 

Vader reached out a hand, as if he could help him, somehow, reach him from miles away. 

“When you get back, I’ll be gone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I–I love you, Father.” 

The hologram vanished, and Luke was gone. Vader’s hand closed over empty air.

“NO!” The word escaped him in a roar, and he was turning around the apartment, around Luke’s room, searching, searching desperately for some sign that his son was still there, that he was just playing a prank–he’d done that before–he had to be here, he _had to–_

But the Force told him otherwise. 

“Luke–Luke, _no,”_ he pleaded, but Luke wasn’t there,he was gone. Vader tore the door from its hinges and shredded Luke’s bed, his clothes, his toy ships he’d brought with him; but that was not enough. He left the room, went into the apartment–

Luke’s books were on the floor. 

Luke’s jacket was hanging carelessly over one of the chairs. 

The entire apartment _felt_ like Luke, from the door to the study room at the opposite end of their space, but Luke wasn’t _there,_ and Vader _hated it–_

Before he knew it, his anger had exploded outward: over the couch, the books, the jacket, until they were all destroyed. Everything that Luke had touched was destroyed, the windows with Luke’s handprint on them were shattered, the carpet was torn to shreds; even the tooka toy, the tiny stuffed animal that Luke had had since he was three years old, did not escape his wrath. That, too, joined the wreckage. 

“Sir?” came a voice behind him. “Sir, may I ask what–”

That was Luke’s, too. 

Vader clenched a fist, and the droid exploded into a million tiny pieces. 

But when it was over, he could still feel Luke there, could still sense his presence; because to get rid of it entirely, he would have had to destroy the apartment itself. Luke tainted everywhere he went in the galaxy with his damned bright presence, he was so _wonderful–_

_And he had left.  
_

_I can’t see you ever again–  
_

He was gone, his starbird was gone, his precious ray of sunshine was gone–

And without him…without Luke, his world was empty. Meaningless. Nothing was worthwhile without Luke there, Vader’s existence cold and dark and void–

Well. 

Then he would find him. 

Vader would find him, Vader would chase his son down and get him back if that was what it took to restore the light that had been yanked so cruelly away from him; he would destroy everyone he came across, tear the galaxy asunder, if that was what it took to find his son. 

_I will find you,_ he thought, and he hoped, he hoped Luke could hear him. _I do not care where you are, I do not care why you left; I will find you. You will not be able to escape me for long. I am your father, and you belong at my side!_

And with that, he stormed from the ruined apartment. 

If he had been paying attention to Luke’s presence, any attention at all, he might have sensed the son who he loved shudder and scream and withdraw in terror; and at last he might have regretted the fear that he had wrought, might have regretted the fact that he had made the one person in the galaxy who loved him just as terrified of him as everyone else. 

But he did not notice. 

And so he did not find his son for three long years.


	10. Day 24: Flufftober - Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Falcon arrives just a little bit earlier...which means that Alderaan is still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is also part of an AU I want to write eventually! Until then, have a little taste of it. :)

Training with a lightsaber was more frustrating than Luke had imagined. He’d _tried_ to deflect the bolts, he really had, but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel this thing Ben called the Force–he was starting to feel like he’d felt it all his life, and had just been ignoring it–it was just that seemed, for something that was obvious, really hard to access. He could feel it there, definitely; but it was like it was just out of reach. Still, he tried to follow the bolts as best as he could with the lightsaber, watching it–

Ben Kenobi let out a gasp. 

Immediately, Luke had dropped the lightsaber and was at his side; Ben might be a Jedi, but he wasn’t very young. His face was pale, and he looked suddenly _exhausted._

Taking his arm, Luke helped him sit down. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Ben put a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if he was trying to think through something. “I don’t know.” 

Luke frowned. He didn’t _know?_ He _always_ seemed to have an answer for things!

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asked. 

Ben simply shook his head; for several moments, he didn’t speak. It took every bit of self control Luke possessed–which he didn’t think was a lot–to not push him. 

“Something is about to happen,” Ben said at last. “Something…terrible.” 

Luke felt a chill go through him at the words. _That_ was ominous. But surely it would be all right; he was with _Ben Kenobi,_ after all, and so far nothing terrible had happened to him. 

“Well, it hasn’t happened yet,” he said. “Right?”

“That’s what I don’t know,” Ben said, his voice quiet; and that worried Luke further. “Only–”

“All right, cutting the sublight engines,” came Han Solo’s abrasive voice from the cockpit. “Three, two–”

They came out of hyperspace, but Luke wasn’t watching that; he was watching Ben. And, all at once, Ben’s eyes widened. 

“Come with me,” he said. 

Luke helped Ben to his feet and walked with him to the cockpit. Yes, they’d come out of hyperspace; there was the deep black of space, and the stars around them, and–

He gasped. 

Right in the center, right in front of them, was what looked like an orb, something precious that a king might keep in his castle, but it was a planet. It was a planet, but it wasn’t dull and brown; it was made of gorgeous blues and greens, and seemed to shine out into the depths of space, a welcome beacon for weary travelers. 

“Is…” Words failed him. “Is, is that–”

Solo laughed, and the moment was ruined. Luke turned red. Why did the smuggler have to make him feel so _stupid_ all the time? He knew he’d never been off Tatooine before, but it wasn’t his fault, and…

“Yeah, kid, that’s Alderaan,” Solo said, and Luke would have turned redder at the use of _that_ particular nickname–but the reminder of just why they were here distracted him. 

That was Alderaan. 

He was going to set foot on _Alderaan._

To his left, Ben Kenobi let out a long sigh of relief. Luke turned to look at him. 

“It is indeed all right,” he breathed, and Luke got the feeling he was talking to himself. “Alderaan is still here.” 

Luke’s stomach dropped. _Still here?_ That–that was–that was _horrifying–_

“What d’you mean, _still here?”_ Solo demanded, spinning around to face him. “You’ve been a little weird up ‘til now, but I gotta say that now you’re _really_ starting to–”

“I’ll have time for questions later,” Ben said sharply. “For now, Captain Solo, do what you were paid to do and take us to the planet.” He clenched his jaw. “This day is fortunate–fortunate indeed, as the Force informs me–but we do not have time to waste.” 

Luke could only wonder what Ben was talking about–but then he felt something. Like the only time he’d managed to deflect the blaster bolt. But this time, the feeling was different; it was faint, very faint, but he could sense danger. 

“Something’s coming,” he said. “On the horizon.” 

For a moment he was terrified that he was wrong again, that Solo would laugh at him; but Ben looked at him appraisingly. 

“Yes, Luke,” he said. “Something _is_ coming.” He stared off into the distance, as if he could see something that no one else could. “It as I said. We have no time to waste.”


	11. Day 27: Angstober - Deal With The Devil(Blacklist AU Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good news: Darth Vader is in the Rebellion's custody and is willing to give information! The bad news: he'll only do it if he negotiates with Luke Skywalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by the amazing TV show The Blacklist! You don't have to know about it to understand this, not required, buuuuut...you should all totally go watch it. I'm only five episodes in but it's already fantastic.

_I speak only with Luke Skywalker._

Luke walked silently through the corridors of the base, a Rebel escort on either side of him. He was still in shock; after Wedge’s news, after the briefing, after hearing Vader’s command played out, in front of him…he didn’t know what to think or say. He had never thought this would happen–had never thought this would even be possible. 

The Rebellion had Darth Vader in custody. 

Vader had agreed to give them information. 

But he would only give them that information if he spoke to Luke. 

It didn’t make sense. No one knew that Luke had destroyed the Death Star; he was just a rookie pilot. 

Unless…

Unless, somehow, the Empire _had_ found out. 

“Wait a minute,” Luke said, and the two officers stopped in their tracks. “I…I have a question.” 

One of them made a motion for him to continue. 

“No one’s supposed to know who I am,” he said. “But this is Vader. What if this is all a trap? What if they’ve found out about me?”

The two officers exchanged a look. 

“We’ve considered that possibility,” the second one said. “Vader does know your name. But Vader has not mentioned anything of the kind; and we have seen no signal from the Empire that anyone knows who you are. As far as we’re concerned, it’s safe; all he knows is your name, not what you’ve done.” 

Luke frowned. They seemed to be telling the truth; most likely, they were. But something just seemed ever so slightly off. 

He was their hero. What wouldn’t they be telling him? 

They moved on, beyond the row of ordinary cells; as they went, Luke found himself growing colder and colder, wishing they weren’t walking so fast, because…because he was going to meet Darth Vader. He was going to meet the man who had killed his father, who’d killed Obi-Wan, face to face. And he was expected to not want to kill him, to not be terrified. 

_I’m going to meet Darth Vader._

A few more seconds and Luke was shivering. 

They kept walking–there was no end to this relentless pace–they turned another corridor. They had left the cells behind. And then they reached a door–the door slid open–and beyond it was a turbolift. Luke stepped forward. 

The officers weren’t with him. 

He’d only just spun around to tell them that when the door shut behind him. 

He was _alone._

“Hey!” he shouted as the turbolift started to move down. “Hey, what’s going on?”

A small screen to his left flicked on, and General Rieekan’s calm face appeared; entirely too calm, Luke thought, for what was going on. He was being sent into the lion’s den. 

“We are sending you down to the area where Vader is being kept,” he said. “We did not trust listening to the conversation the entire time.” 

“Uh…okay,” Luke said, forcing himself to take deep breaths; he wasn’t alone, not really. They were going to be listening. It would be all right. “Okay.” He forced himself to sound more in control; he was really bad at this stuff. “Thank you, General.” 

The general nodded, and the screen turned to black. 

But the turbolift kept going; down, and down, and _down,_ until Luke began to wonder if it would ever end. He hadn’t even known they had this kind of cell here; but then, without it, he didn’t suppose they could even hold the Sith Lord at all. 

Abruptly, the turbolift stopped. 

Luke caught his breath. He was here. He was going to meet Darth Vader. 

_I don’t want to do this, I do_ not _want to do this–_

With a creak, the doors slid open. Slowly, very slowly, Luke turned around and walked out of the turbolift. 

Again, the doors shut behind him.

Luke looked around. He was in a dark hallway; there was nothing there but him, and the hall itself, and a door at the end. 

So, he started to walk forward, one foot in front of the other; his footsteps echoed oddly through the long chamber, and made him shiver. It reminded him once again of how alone he was. 

_This is for the Rebellion,_ he told himself. _This is our only chance to defeat the Empire. This is a miracle._

He thought of the way Vader’s mask had looked from far off, so horrible and skeletal…

_Ben would tell me to say yes._

He had killed Ben. He saw the lightsaber, scything through the brown robes. 

_He’s a prisoner. He can’t do anything to you._

**_I speak only with Luke Skywalker._ **

What could he possibly want? 

_You blew up the Death Star. You can do this. This is nothing compared to that.  
_

And then the door was there, in front of him. If it could be called that. It was a solid wall of durasteel; and furthermore, Luke could hear the electricity crackling around it, at all times. 

He nodded, at the camera that he knew was watching him. 

A portion of the door slid aside. He hesitated only a moment–for the Rebellion–before stepping through. 

Once again, the door slid shut behind him. It was loud, and heavy, and _final._

And slowly, Luke turned to look. 

Darth Vader was standing in front of him, and it took everything in him not to scream. 

He was restrained by a collar around his neck, and manacles around his wrists; even those hummed with electricity. But beyond that…beyond that, he still _towered,_ like some sort of durasteel monster. The helmet, up close, was even more horrifying than in Luke’s distant memory, like the face of a skeleton, those lenses endlessly dark and void, like two black holes in space. That’s what Vader was, Luke realized; he was a black hole, and he would devour him if Luke wasn’t careful. 

For a long time, they just stood there, the Sith Lord and the hero of the Rebellion, staring at one another.

 _This is the man who killed Obi-Wan, the man who killed my_ father–

“Luke Skywalker,” Vader rumbled, and Luke _flinched._ He had never heard Vader speak, not ever before; his voice was dark, deep and terrible, like something that had come out of hell. “What a surprise.”

Luke realized, in the back of his mind, that he was supposed to speak. 

“Surprise?” he said, and his voice came out in a squeak. Turning red, he cleared his throat. “What do you mean…a surprise? You–you didn’t think I would come?”

“No,” Vader said, and Luke clenched all his muscles to keep himself from flinching again. He was not going to be afraid, he was _not–_ “You are new to the Rebellion. They would fear that this is a trap.”

“Well, is it?” Luke demanded, his heart still beating a million miles an hour. 

“No,” Vader said. “I wish to trade information.” 

His tone, from what Luke could tell of it…was stilted, almost awkward. As if…as if…

Something. He could almost sense something, but his skill with the Force wasn’t strong enough. And he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know what Vader was thinking. 

“Yes,” he said carefully. “That’s what you told the Rebellion.” 

Vader studied him for a moment. 

Then there was a flicker; the lights flickered, in and out, in and out; with a gasp, Luke turned to look. What was going on? 

As soon as it had started, the flickering stopped. 

But far above them, an alarm went off. Luke heard it, very dimly; and in the Force, he sensed shifting. Something was wrong, something was changing–

“But I can tell you more,” Vader said, as if nothing had happened. 

Luke spun back toward him. So it had been Vader who had done it; they were no longer being watched. He could say anything–maybe he could _do_ anything–

“What do you want?” Luke demanded. 

“Your hair is shorter,” Vader said, and Luke flinched again. “To be expected, of course; even the Rebellion, it seems, will not tolerate a farmboy’s haircut.” 

“Um–” Luke blinked, several times–and then he decided that Vader was messing with him. Of course he’d know some things, of course; he might even remember Luke from the Death Star. “What are your actual terms?”

“It makes you look stronger,” Vader said, proceeding with the previous topic as if Luke had never changed it. “It is a good look for you. Additionally, I can sense that you are more knowledgeable in military matters. You have already begun to learn, since the last time we met.” 

_The last time we met._

The bottom dropped out of Luke’s stomach. 

_He knew._

“You–” He couldn’t find the words for speech. _“You–”_

“Yes,” Vader said. “I know that you destroyed the Death Star. And that is precisely why I wanted to speak with you. That, and…other reasons.” 

“Then I’m not going to speak with you at all,” Luke snapped; he was shaking, whether from fear or anger he didn’t know. “I’ll get out of here, they’ll take me back up–”

“But why should you leave,” Vader said, sounding unbelievably smug, “when I have things to tell you that the Rebellion will not even begin to offer?”

Luke stared at him. How could he…

“I have shut down the cameras with the Force,” he said, “but we have ten minutes, at the most, before they figure out a way to fix them.We must speak quickly.” 

With the _Force?_

“You’re–you’re restrained,” he stammered, at last finding his voice. “How can you use the Force?”

“And that is the truth,” Vader said. “I trust that you will not do anything foolish with it. I am only pretending. If I wished to, I could shred this entire cell to pieces.” 

Luke started to edge backwards, his hand blindly searching for the door. 

An invisible force froze it, in midair. 

“I told you,” Vader said, his voice entirely too calm, “not to do anything _foolish,_ young one. Relax.” 

Luke did not relax. He heard something like a long sigh from Vader. 

“I am here,” Vader went on, “because I _want to be.”_ He must have sensed Luke’s confusion, because he continued: “And that is another thing the Rebellion did not tell you. I say _another,_ because there are many things they have not told you; that will be remedied in time. But we will begin with this. The Rebellion did not capture me.” He paused, as if waiting for Luke to digest that piece of information, before continuing on with the next shocker. “I defected.” 

Fortunately, there was a chair right there; otherwise, Luke might have passed out on the spot. He tried to move, and found that he was free; shakily, he gripped one of the armrests and lowered himself into it. 

Unfortunately, that left him feeling even smaller than before. But he also felt that fainting in front of Darth Vader would have made the entire situation even worse. 

“Tell me–” Once again, his voice came out much higher-pitched than he’d intended. “Tell me what you know.” 

“That’s more like it,” Vader said, lowering himself onto the bench that was there for him. “You are learning already, Luke.” 

Luke grew even colder, at that use of his first name. 

“I will start at the beginning,” Vader went on, his tone entirely too calm; and then he leaned forward, so that he and Luke were on eye level. “There is an imminent attack on this base, and if you do not listen very carefully to what I tell you, you are _all_ going to die.” 


	12. Day 29: Angstober - Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Vader finally clear up an important misunderstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part four of the Starbird AU! Sequel to days 12, 14, and 21.

Vader was furious–furious beyond anything he had ever imagined. He had thought that things were all right, that their relationship had begun to heal…but suddenly it had all gone wrong, and he had not thought he could _be_ this angry. 

Luke had attempted to _escape._

He had been with Vader for almost two weeks. Slowly, their relationship had begun to improve; Luke had started joining Vader for dinner, just as he used to–he had agreed to move back into his room, the one he’d had as a child–he had even started smiling a little more, like that first day when they spoke. For the first time in three years, Vader allowed himself to feel happy.

And then there had been a flash of pain, a pulling at their bond that could only have been caused by Luke being injured; and Vader had received word that Stormtroopers had caught his son trying to hijack a ship and escape. And of course Luke had been injured in the process, they seemed to have been thinking of him more as a Rebel than the prince that he was…but he should have known that would happen. Why would he be so foolish? 

And why would he try to escape _yet again?_

In minutes, Vader was storming across the ship, past officers and troopers who backed quickly out of his way–he was pushing past the guards, throwing the door to the medbay open with such force it slammed into the wall and rebounded. 

Luke, sitting on one of the beds, his arm in a sling, flinched. 

“Father,” he said, “Father, I can explain–”

“You _dare,”_ Vader hissed, ignoring the fear that flashed across Luke’s pale face. “After I have brought you back, given you _everything,_ given you all the freedom within this castle that you could ever wish for–”

_“Father–”  
_

“And you attempt to _leave,”_ Vader snarled, marching forward to tower over Luke. _“Just like the last time._ Do you even understand the pain I felt? That the son I had raised, my _only son,_ would leave me like that? Do you know what I could have felt when, after treating you like a son instead of the prisoner everyone would expect, you attempted to do the _same thing?_ Do you UNDERSTAND–”

“Father!” 

Vader stopped, then; because Luke wasn’t gone, he was sitting in front of him, injured…and because the pain, the desperation, the terror in Luke’s voice had cut straight to his heart. 

He _could not_ hurt his son. 

So he drew back, forcibly drawing back his anger into himself, clenching his fists–and just barely restrained himself. 

“Yes?” he asked, not bothering to keep the fury from his voice. 

“You–you don’t understand,” Luke said shakily. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for two weeks–”

“That does not explain why you would do that to me again.” 

“It does,” Luke whispered, “it does, if only–”

“If only _what?”_

“If only you would _listen!”_ Luke shouted, his voice cracking. “Please, please just listen, Father. It’s…it’s not what you think, it’s not what you think at all, but–”

His face crumpled. 

Vader wanted to continue to shout at him, to rage, to show him exactly _how furious_ he had been that day, but…but Luke already knew that. Yes, that was right. He had thought Vader wanted to kill him, for years, because he had felt his father’s fury. 

Maybe Luke had tried to leave because he was _still_ afraid. 

Vader wanted to shout at him, but–he couldn’t. He was not going to drive away the only person in the world who possibly cared about him. So instead, he moved forward and sat down in the chair next to Luke’s bed. 

“Very well,” he said. “I am listening.” 

Luke stared at him, took a shaky breath; then another. Vader wished he wouldn’t take so long, he was still _furious–_

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for years,” he said quietly, “but I wasn’t–I wasn’t sure–”

“Wasn’t sure about what?” Vader said, and Luke flinched again. 

“Could you–could you maybe not sound so harsh?” he asked. His voice was starting to rise in pitch, just the way it had done when…when he was about to have an anxiety attack. 

Vader, once again, forced himself to calm down. 

“What,” he said slowly, “were you unsure about?”

“I…” Luke took a deep breath. “I didn’t know whether you would think it was right or wrong. I–I–” He put his uninjured hand over his face for a moment; when he lowered it, his face was streaked with tears. “I thought you would hate me.” 

“Luke,” Vader said. “I understand it has been three years, but I do _not_ hate you.” 

“I–I know, but–” Luke shot him a glare. “But it’s a little hard to tell when you’re so obviously furious.” 

“I am…sorry,” Vader forced himself to say. The words tasted like ash in his mouth. “It reminded me of when you left. That was all. But that does not mean I hate you, either.” 

“Okay–okay, well–” Luke took another very shaky breath. “The reason I left, it–it wasn’t about _you._ I didn’t… _want_ to leave you.” He stared at the floor. “I cried for hours on the ship. I wanted to be with you.” 

“I know,” Vader said, remembering the message; but he hadn’t believed it until this moment. He had thought that Luke _had_ wanted to leave him, that he was lying–but it seemed he was telling the truth. He had not wanted to leave, and the thought of the sixteen-year-old boy, sobbing for the sole reason that he wanted his father… “Then…why did you leave? What was the other factor?” A thought came to his mind. “Had you already met someone from the Rebellion?”

“Force, stop being so suspicious,” Luke snapped. “It wasn’t anything to do with the Rebellion, it wasn’t anything to do with you, it…or, maybe it was, but I don’t–”

 _“Luke.”_ Vader leaned forward. “Just tell me. It will be all right. I am not…angry at you. _Why did you leave?”_

Luke closed his eyes for a long time. Then he opened them, and they were filled with so many emotions at once: with sadness, and fear, and horror, and regret. 

“It was Palpatine,” he whispered. 

Vader clenched his fists. 

The fear had been in the back of his mind, just an echo–an echo that had grown more pronounced after Luke’s admission that an assassin had come for him while he was with the Rebellion, allegedly having come on Vader’s orders. He had suspected that Palpatine was doing something, pulling strings behind the scenes, but…

“What was it?” he demanded, heedless of the anger that slipped into his voice. “What did he do to you? I am not angry at you,” he added quickly, as Luke shrank back again. “I am angry at _Palpatine._ I need you to tell me, Luke. _What did he do?”_

“He…he…” Luke’s face crumpled again; Vader reached forward and took Luke’s free hand in his. Luke squeezed his fingers tightly, then looked up at him. “He didn’t _do_ anything! I know you’re afraid of that, but that’s not it, he–he tried to make _me_ do something.” 

Vader waited–he gripped Luke’s hand tighter. 

“He summoned me to tea,” Luke said; he still held Vader’s hand, but his eyes were staring off into the distance–he was caught in a memory. “He was proud of me. He wanted me to become his apprentice, and–and–” 

There was a whisper in Vader’s mind, an idea of what the answer could be, but he didn’t know–

“He–he–” Luke was starting to cry in earnest, but he took another shaky breath, and finally looked back at Vader. There was something in his eyes…something familiar. A visual representation of the self-loathing Vader felt, every day, for himself. _“He told me I had to kill you.”_

Vader froze in utter shock. 

Let Luke’s hand go, pulled away, and stared. 

He had had his suspicions that Palpatine was doing something, but that–but _that_ –all these years, his master had been telling him that he would never turn on him. That he would show him everything about the Force, that he could become as powerful as he was meant to be…

And finally, the truth hit him. 

He remembered Luke, in that holo–the way he had looked shaken, about to cry, about to pass out at any given moment; the terror in his face, the horror, had been absolutely prevalent.

The _sadness._

Luke had not wanted to leave. He hadn’t; but Palpatine had given him an ultimatum, and the only way to make sure that Vader’s life was spared was…to leave. 

And Vader hadn’t seen _any of that._

He felt as though his world had collapsed, folded in on itself. Palpatine had wanted Vader dead and Luke as his apprentice, but if he believed Luke to be a traitor–then of course he would return to Vader as his most trusted servant. 

Of course he would send an assassin to kill Luke, to get the traitor out of his way. 

And of course Luke, when hearing of Palpatine’s imminent visit–in four days–would attempt to run away. 

And for that he was now sitting in the medbay, his arm injured, bruises on his face, shaking and terrified and traumatized. 

_What had Vader done?_

He had terrified Luke for years, hunted him out of this feeling of betrayal, but–but Luke had never betrayed him. 

Luke would _never_ betray him. 

And even if he did, then…then Vader would not hurt him any longer. He refused to. He had hurt him, even under misconceived notions, long enough. 

He came out of his shock, out of the stunned silence that had followed this news, to the sight of Luke sobbing on the bed. Of course. He felt trapped, with Palpatine coming so soon–and more than that, as he had said, he thought that Vader would hate him. He had lived with this pain for _three years,_ had done it alone. No wonder he was still so afraid. 

Vader had never been good with words; so instead, he leaned forward and pulled Luke against him in a gentle hug. 

Luke froze for a moment, as if he were shocked; then he simply relaxed into the embrace and cried harder. Vader held him like that, for a long time–held him tightly, because Luke was the only person left in the world who cared about him at all…and because now he realized how close he’d come to losing him forever. 

Their first hug, almost two weeks prior, had been happy, and wonderful, and filled with the joy of being reunited. But this one…this was comfort, but no comfort. This was a father and son understanding, at long last, what the other had been through…but that understanding had come with the pain of truth, the truth of _just what_ was in store for them. 

At last Vader pulled back–Luke had made no move to do so–and looked his son in the eye.

“Oh, Luke,” he said, “oh, _Luke._ I am so, so sorry. I was so mistaken, for so long…I believed you had betrayed me, when you were only trying to protect me. Will you…will you _ever_ forgive me?”

Luke nodded–slowly, but Vader sensed the slowness came only from shock. 

“Of course, Father,” he said, his voice a croak. “I mean, I was–I was worried you wouldn’t forgive _me.”_

“That I wouldn’t–” Vader pulled Luke’s head against his chest, for a brief moment. “No,” he said, pushing Luke back and lifting his chin up to look at him. “No, Luke. There is _nothing_ to forgive.” 

“W-well, then–” Luke gave him a watery smile. “There’s nothing to forgive on my end, either.” 

Vader smiled behind the mask, and wished that Luke could see it. 

“Father,” Luke said suddenly; there was a question in his face. “I–I was worried–I was wondering–”

Vader went cold. He knew what Luke was going to ask. 

“Palpatine knows I’m back, doesn’t he?”

Vader clenched his fists. Bowed his head. He felt it, from Luke–a stone-cold fear, the culmination of three years of fear. He was terrified. 

“Yes,” he said at last. “He knows.” 

He should let Luke go. That was what he _wanted_ to do, now that he knew how wrong he had been; but then, Luke had almost been killed. It was clear that, given Luke’s refusal, Palpatine wanted him dead. He had not said as much to Vader, but Vader had gleaned it–it was what he wanted. So it would be utterly foolish to send Luke away, or to let him escape. 

Even if it was everything Vader wanted to do. 

Luke deserved much better than him. 

“So,” Luke said, his voice shaky. “What…what happens now?”

Vader’s hand tightened on Luke’s chin. Luke looked up at him, fear in his eyes. 

“I,” Vader growled, “cannot hide you any longer. I was unable to keep that promise to you. But I swear–I _swear on my life_ that I will protect you from him. I did not do it before, and paid dearly; I lost my son, if temporarily. But I am determined that that will _not_ happen again. As long as I stand between you and the Emperor, you have nothing to worry about.” He set his other hand on Luke’s uninjured shoulder. “We will weather the storm, my son. He may throw everything at us that he can; but this time, we both know the truth…this time, I am not loyal to _him._ I am loyal to _you.”_

And then, at long last, the fear disappeared. Luke gave him a small smile. 

“Okay, Father,” he said, and the trust in his face, in his eyes, struck Vader to his core. Was Luke aware of how he was the center of Vader’s galaxy? How he had his father wrapped around his little finger? How _much his father cared for him?_ If not…if he did not, then Vader would do everything in his power to make sure he knew. “If you say so…then I believe it. We’ll defeat the Emperor.” He reached up and grasped Vader’s hand that was on his shoulder. “I’m not running anymore. I’ll _never_ leave you. I promise.” 

Luke had not needed to say that. 

But to hear him say it anyway…

Yes. They would defeat the Emperor. 

And then–and then they would finally live free, just as Vader had always wanted. Luke would have the life he deserved; and he would never, not for another moment, doubt that his father loved him.


	13. Day 31: Angstober - Monster(Blacklist AU Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After realizing that Vader's information was correct, Luke strikes a deal with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to day 27.

Vader had been right. Darth Vader had, against all odds, actually been _right._

Luke hadn’t done or said much after Vader’s admission that “they would all die” if Luke didn’t listen to him; he had barely been able to think. He’d given him some sarcastic remark, jumped shaking out of the chair, and was out the door and running before Vader could do anything to him. The next thing he remembered was reaching the top and being helped out of the turbolift by several worried officers; but he hadn’t wanted their help. He’d wanted to make sure Vader didn’t escape. 

But when they got the cameras back on just a minute later, there he was in the cell, staring straight up at the cameras. 

As far as Luke could tell, Vader was looking right at him. 

_Consider my proposal, boy,_ said a voice in his head moments later, and no one had known why Luke shouted in terror and hunched himself against the wall, as if he could somehow escape that horrible presence. _Do you want your friends to die? Or do you want my help?_

Luke had shoved him out with as much strength as he possessed; he still didn’t know how he had done it. He must have been desperate, and called upon some Force ability that he didn’t know existed. 

_Suit yourself,_ Vader said, and he was gone. 

And then, three hours later, half the base was blown away by an airstrike they’d only seen coming at the last minute. 

Luke sensed it coming, all right; sensed it coming, realized Vader must have been right, ran to High Command in a panic, and got most of the Rebels–including Han and Leia–underground before it hit. But there were several dozen casualties; he couldn’t have saved everyone in time. 

And then, Luke knew what he had to do. 

“Turn off the cameras,” he told Leia; she would listen to him. She of all people would make sure things were taken care of. “Turn off the audio. I’m going down to talk to him.” 

“No,” she protested, stood up; even though she could barely walk from being thrown into the wall by the attack. “I’m not letting you go down there–” 

“I don’t want to talk to him either,” Luke said, terrified at the thought of walking in there again, for the sole purpose of admitting that Vader…had been right. “But I have to. The base almost got blown up, Leia, and he’s the only one who knew it was coming. Even you know what we have to do.” He sighed. “I just don’t want anyone else to die because of something I could have stopped.” 

Leia stared at him long and hard, her eyes searching his; and then, finally, she sighed. 

“All right,” she said. “I believe you. I’ll let you go. But if he tries _anything–”_

“You’ll kill him,” Luke said with a smile. 

“I don’t care what Chewie and Han say, they’ll have to get in line behind me,” Leia snapped. But he could see the smile behind her eyes as well; and then he felt, marginally, safe. He wasn’t alone. 

But then he was walking towards that cell again, and he had never felt more alone than ever.

He could sense Vader there, just on the other side of the door; he surely knew that Luke was coming, and Luke _knew_ that Vader was going to be smug about what had just happened. He knew it. 

But he had to go in anyway. He had to save the Rebellion. 

Taking a deep breath, Luke stood in front of the door. It was unlocked; and so, squaring his shoulders, he stepped inside. 

The door slid shut behind him. 

“Luke,” the Sith Lord intoned, and Luke _detested_ the way Vader said his name. “I see you have returned already.” 

“Do _not_ call me that,” Luke said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Vader, it seemed, didn’t want to do anything to him, or he would have done it already; he was not going to appear terrified in front of him. Not if he was going to save the Rebellion. “To you, I’m Lieutenant Skywalker, or just Skywalker. Nothing else.” He took a deep breath. “What are your terms?”

Vader seemed to study him, with the chilling, single-minded focus of a krayt dragon. 

“So,” he said, “I take it the attack was successful. I was right after all, was I not?”

Luke clenched his fists and looked away. 

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, “you were. But,” he added, even as he sensed Vader prepare himself to speak, “you can understand why I might not have trusted _you.”_

Vader tilted his head. 

“Because I am a monster,” he said calmly. 

Luke stared. To hear him say it, so matter-of-factly, as if it was something that he knew himself, that he was aware of…

Well. At least Luke might be able to make him understand, then. 

“You–yes,” he stammered. “That.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He was determined not to be afraid, but what would happen if he insulted Vader too much? 

“Well,” Vader said dryly, “did you come here for any _other_ purpose?”

“Yes!” Luke protested quickly, feeling himself turn red. _Stay on track, Skywalker. Stay on track_. “Ahem. Yes. Now that we know that–that you–”

“That I was right.”

“That you have _valuable knowledge,”_ Luke said, shooting Vader a glare, “we need to hear your terms. And,” he added, _“you_ need to hear _ours.”_

“Ours,” Vader echoed, his voice sounding derisive. “You say that as if you are part of the Rebellion. As if you belong with _them.”_

“As if I–” How did Vader know _exactly_ what to say to throw Luke off? To make him doubt everything? “As of four hours ago, we both know what I did. I destroyed the Death Star. How would that qualify as _not belonging with the Rebellion?”_

“Oh, I was not arguing that you belonged with the Empire either,” Vader said. “Make no mistake about _that._ As you see, I have left voluntarily. What I am insinuating, _Lieutenant Skywalker,_ is that you are a self-proclaimed Jedi. You have access to the Force. And what you must understand is that Force-sensitives, no matter which part of the Force they wield, belong only with the Force.”

There was an unspoken implication there; something else Vader had wanted to say, but he was keeping himself from saying. Luke was not going to ask. 

“Your terms,” he said again. 

“You _are_ persistent, aren’t you?” There was something like a sigh from Vader’s vocoder. “Very well. My terms are that I am placed in better accommodations than these; I give my solemn word that I will not attempt to escape, but while these chains do not completely restrict my use of the Force, they damp it somewhat. To help you, I must be able to access it completely.” 

“Why?” Luke demanded; he still didn’t completely understand. “The entire time, you have never been clear on this. You need to explain, or I’m walking out of here. What _exactly_ is it that you want to help us with?”

Vader leaned forward and slightly down, so that he was looking Luke in the eye. Luke hated how small it made him feel. 

“I have a list of names,” Vader said, “of people within the Empire who present a great danger to the Rebellion.”

“Oh.” Luke snorted. “The Emperor? No, thanks. I think we already know about him.” 

“I do not mean him,” Vader said in that same calm, level tone that sent chills up and down Luke’s spine. “Or, I do–but not at present. He will get his due reward in time. I mean the people working behind the scenes: assassins, secret generals, saboteurs, mercenaries. You do not know they exist, and the Empire is counting on it. You have the Emperor to fear, of course; but as long as he has access to these great servants of his, you will never win. You stand no chance of it.”

Luke’s mind was racing; he couldn’t speak. He could only stare at Vader, thinking of the fact that there may be all these people out there, knowing where the base was, perhaps even knowing who he was–

But Vader had been part of the Empire himself. What if this was all a trick? 

“You still do not believe me, do you?” Vader said, and Luke almost jumped; the man had _read his mind._ “Then I advise you to walk outside and look at the damage done to your base.” 

The words hit home. He was right; everything about this was right, and Luke hated it, but…but it was true. He hadn’t listened to Vader the first time, and now his friends were injured, and some of the pilots he’d flown with last week were _dead._

“So,” Luke said, and he had to clear his throat. This was _horrible._ “So, that’s what you want. To take all these people down? And to have access to the Force to do it better?”

“Yes,” Vader said. “That is what I want. Will you agree?”

“I…” Luke knew what Leia would say; he knew what his friends would say. But he had no choice. “I’ll talk to High Command.” 

“Good. Then I want one more thing.” 

Luke clenched his fists, and forced himself to once again look the monster in the eye. “And what’s that?”

“If I am to negotiate with you,” Vader said, “in order to get rid of these servants of the Emperor…I will only do so by speaking with you.” 

Luke took a step back. 

_That_ was a shock, and horrifying in and of itself. It was one thing for Vader to begin this, to tell the Rebellion all of this information by putting it through Luke; it was another thing entirely to continue that, to have to come down here every day and speak to the man who had murdered his father, who’d murdered Obi-Wan, speak to him as an ally. 

But if he saved the Rebellion…

_How far will you **go** to save the Rebellion? _

He didn’t know. He knew he was pushing his own moral limits; but for now, he didn’t think he’d pushed too far. He hoped not. Besides…

He didn’t want people to die because he’d been wrong. Not again. 

But the idea of negotiating with Vader, working _with him…_

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you want to speak only with me? Can’t you talk to Leia Organa? Mothma? Rieekan?”

Vader stared at him–and then, a peculiar sound, like a clap of thunder, burst from the vocoder. Luke flinched, and then he realized–Vader was _laughing._

He clenched his fists and shot the Sith Lord another glare. 

“You believe I would negotiate with _them?”_ Vader asked him. “Do you think they would ever agree to anything that I said? Do you believe they would even have listened to me as much as you, to save the people that you did? They are _politicians._ They are in this for their own gain; nothing more. It is the same on both sides. You are not a politician; you fight for the Rebellion because you believe in it, and if I give you the chance to save it…then you will take it.” 

That might all be true; Luke could sense it. But the way Vader phrased it, things between them couldn’t be personal. And the way he’d been treated since the beginning was as if this was _all very personal._

“That’s not all,” he said, “is it?”

“No,” Vader said, and it almost felt to Luke as if he was smiling–smiling triumphantly. “Do you wish to know?”

“Yes,” Luke snapped. “Of course I do. If there’s something you know about me, then I need to know it. You’re a war criminal.” 

“I am also something else,” Vader said softly. “But if you wish to know…then you will have to accept my help.” 

Luke should have known that was coming. He should have known. 

“Fine,” he said sharply. “I _accept._ But now, you need to hear our terms.” 

_“Your_ terms,” Vader corrected him, and Luke clenched his teeth. “But, yes. That would be prudent.” 

“You will not call me Luke,” Luke said. “You will not try to distract me from the topic of conversation, or talk personal things with me, no matter…” He swallowed. “No matter how much you know about me.” 

“I disagree,” Vader said. “Otherwise, what if one of those bits of information will help us in taking down one of these war criminals? Additionally, if we only talk professionally, how are you going to begin to trust me?”

“I don’t want to trust you,” Luke said, but he had to admit he was curious about just why Vader knew so much about him. “Fine. You can talk…personal things. But not to distract me; and if I tell you to stop talking about it, then stop.” 

Vader nodded. “A fine compromise. Continue.” 

It was decidedly odd, to be speaking this… _casually_ with Darth Vader, but Luke pressed on. 

“You will stay under our supervision,” he said, “at all times. If I can convince High Command to accept these terms, then you will be placed in a room where they will be able to supervise you. The cameras cannot be turned off.”

Vader looked hesitant, but he agreed to that as well. 

“And finally,” Luke said, “if you attempt to escape, even once…your life will be forfeit.” 

“Oh,” Vader said, and Luke knew something was coming, “there is no need to worry about that, young one. I will not attempt to escape unless you yourself are dead–and _that,”_ he added, his voice taking on a darker tone, “is an event I will prevent at _any_ cost.” 

And, well. That was terrifying. 

Things had been puzzling at first, and the puzzlement had grown worse: Darth Vader, for some impossible reason, seemed to care about Luke. The reason why must be the thing Vader was holding off on telling him; but the idea was still frightening. What did this mean for him? What did _this entire situation_ mean for him? It was obvious, now, why Vader had mentioned the thing about the Jedi, and Force-sensitives, and Luke not belonging to the Rebellion; of course. He wanted Luke to work with _him,_ and no one else. 

_I can’t let him get to me like that,_ Luke tried to tell himself. _I can’t let him separate me from the Rebellion. I belong with_ them, _not the Sith Lord who killed my father, whether he’s the only Force sensitive left or not. I can’t–_

“The more frightened you are, the more determined you become,” Vader mused. “Fascinating.” 

Luke closed his eyes temporarily. 

_What have I gotten myself into?_

He clenched his fists; and then, he opened his eyes. So what if Vader was right about him in that one particular scenario? He didn’t know everything. 

“Do you accept our terms?” he said. 

“Yes.” As well as he was able to, Vader held out a hand. “I accept _your_ terms.” 

Luke gritted his teeth, but he stretched out his arm, let the black-gloved hand close around his. The durasteel grip that could have crushed his fingers with barely an effort took his hand with almost overwhelming gentleness. They shook on it, on their deal; and then, hastily, Luke removed himself and stepped back. 

He tried to ignore how Vader’s grip had tightened at the last second, as if he didn’t want to let him go. 

“So,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “who’s the first name? And why do we need to stop them?”

Vader studied him again. Luke wished he would stop doing that. 

“The first name on my list is Mara Jade,” the Sith Lord said at last, “and her objective is to kill the pilot who destroyed the Death Star.” 

Luke’s eyes blew wide; and suddenly, despite everything, he was very glad that he had agreed to accept Darth Vader’s help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I intended to make this just a two-shot...but several people demanded more and I had to cave(I love this AU too). Send me a prompt on my [tumblr](https://heartsofstars.tumblr.com/) if you want to see it continued!


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